


And Prideful Witchers

by lynamoon



Series: Of Bards and Daggers and Prideful Witchers [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Come Swallowing, Dom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Explicit Language, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has a Big Dick, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Hair-pulling, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sub Jaskier | Dandelion, i can't write smut without a sappy ending sue me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:02:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24817300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynamoon/pseuds/lynamoon
Summary: Alternate title: Is That a Dagger in Your Trousers, Or Are You Just Happy to See Me?As you may expect, more sexy hijinks ensue.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Of Bards and Daggers and Prideful Witchers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1795078
Comments: 6
Kudos: 150





	And Prideful Witchers

**Author's Note:**

> This picks up where Of Bards and Daggers left off. I suggest reading the first part beforehand just so the story makes more sense. But if you're just here for the sexy stuff, the plot of the first isn't that heavily integrated. As stated in the tags, I'm a hopeless romantic who needs a cheesy rom-com ending so if you're into that like I am, read on dear friend.

Geralt had been bested.

He had lost, Jaskier had won.

The battle _he_ taught him to fight.

Jaskier was indeed a fast learner and a good student. But, he was also a haughty little prick. The more Geralt let Jaskier around him, the thinner his resolve wore. The bard knew what he was doing, riling him up the way he did. Every move, every gaze, every word…it was like he knew exactly which buttons to push and when. It agitated the Witcher to no end how easily the bard could get under his skin. However, his agitation was coupled with desire. Desire to care for Jaskier, to be at his rescue, to have him close. Close in every way. And that thought only added to his current excitation. The adrenaline still pumping strong through him at Jaskier’s clever ruse. His skin turned to gooseflesh at the brush of Jaskier’s dagger. The Witcher had rarely felt this disarmed. Never at such a loss for words. So, he’d let his actions speak for him. He was done playing around.

You never turn your back to the enemy. Since Jaskier had won, he thought he was safe. The Witcher took full advantage of this by running up and grabbing the bard by the waist. Jaskier let out a huff at the sudden advance.

“Clever little shit, aren’t you?”

“I learned from the bes—”

“I didn’t say you could speak” Geralt warned, bringing one of his hands to Jaskier’s mouth. Jaskier leaned his head back slightly in defiance of the forced silence. Geralt knew the bard’s neck was his weak spot and seized the opportunity to graze his teeth over the soft skin. Jaskier flinched and barely held back a moan.

Geralt slid his other hand further back on the bard’s waist and unfastened the holster. The encased dagger fell to the ground with a thud. He then moved his hand forward to Jaskier’s belt, unfastening the buckle and withdrawing the leather in one fell swoop.

“Pretty good at that, huh? Have you been practicing?” Jaskier teased.

Geralt responded by clamping his palm tighter around the bard’s mouth and swiftly biting the back of his neck. Jaskier couldn’t stop the guttural cry that left his lips, somewhat muffled by the Witcher’s hand. The Witcher knew the mark would leave a sizeable bruise by morning. Good. The bard needed to learn his lesson.

Of all the things he had taught Jaskier these past weeks, discipline was, apparently, not one of them. Now was as good a time as ever to start his training beyond the blade.

“Walk forward” Geralt instructed.

Jaskier did as he was told and walked towards the tree in front of him, Geralt’s hands still firm in their placement. Geralt stopped them just before reaching the base of the tree.

“Now, I’m going to remove my hand from your mouth. You’re going to need it for this next part, is that understood?”

Jaskier’s eyes widened as he nodded vigorously. Geralt smirked at the almost comical nature of his bard’s understanding.

_His_ bard. Now there was a thought.

“Turn and face me”

Jaskier obliged and Geralt removed his hand as promised, setting it on Jaskier’s side. The bard opened his mouth as if to say something, but quickly thought better of it. It seemed his impulse to prattle on _could_ be controlled.

“I’m pretty sure I don’t have to tell you what to do next” Geralt retorted.

Jaskier remained standing, a fiery glow behind his eyes that Geralt wasn’t wholly familiar with. He’d seen a similar look on the bard’s face plenty of times when he strummed his lute or sang a new melody. This look, though, seemed more like intrigue. Like an invitation. Jaskier eyed down the Witcher’s torso and back up again. He stared deep into the golden irises before him.

He was waiting.

Oh.

_Oh._

Jaskier _wanted_ Geralt to tell him what to do.

“On your knees, bard”

Jaskier dropped to his knees so quickly it was as if his legs had given out under the weight of the Witcher’s gaze upon him. His arms were still at his sides, palms turned slightly upward resting on the ground by his thighs. The Witcher hummed low in approval. Jaskier took in a ragged breath.

“Hands behind your back” Geralt ordered.

Jaskier obeyed, clasping his palms together behind him. Geralt stepped back and picked up Jaskier’s belt from where it had landed on the ground. He folded the belt in half and snapped the leather, causing Jaskier to shiver and blink rapidly. Although Geralt relished in his dominance over the bard, he wanted to assure Jaskier that he wouldn’t actually hurt him.

“You know I wouldn’t hurt you” Geralt stated earnestly, not breaking eye contact with the bard.

Jaskier smiled incredulously and tilted his head to one side.

“Not intentionally” Geralt added, kneeling to the bard’s level. “Not unless you wanted me to”

The blush that crept over Jaskier’s face could’ve easily rivaled the rouge of any nobleman’s mistress.

Geralt moved behind the bard and wrapped the belt around Jaskier’s clasped hands. He tightened the belt as far as the holes in its leather would allow and tied the rest in place. Jaskier wiggled his fingers, getting used to the sensation. Geralt stood up and walked around to face the bard. He took a moment to appreciate the look on Jaskier’s face. He looked the picture of lust; eyes half-lidded yet focused, chest heaving lightly, jaw slack in anticipation. If Geralt wasn’t sure before about Jaskier wanting him the same way he did, he was completely sure now.

Geralt slowly unfastened the buttons on his trousers. He savored the eager look on the bard’s face that only grew the farther down he went.

“You look so pretty like that” Geralt uttered just before undoing the last button.

Jaskier practically beamed at the praise and gasped in blissful shock at the sight of the Witcher’s bare cock before him.

“Sweet Melitele, they really weren’t kidding…”

“Who’s they?”

“Just…people?!…I mean, I’ve heard?, but…just… _fuck_ Geralt, you’re big!”

Geralt couldn’t help but grin and let out a chuckle, looking up toward the treetops. He avoided the bard’s gaze for a moment, a bit embarrassed by his remark. He knew he was large compared to his brothers and from what women had told him. Somehow, hearing it from Jaskier was such a ludicrous thing. He never expected to be in this situation, but, as Jaskier had once said, “here we are”.

What shook him out of his thoughts were the lips that kissed his inner thigh. He looked down just in time to see Jaskier’s eyes close and lick across the V of his abdomen.

“Is this okay?” Jaskier asked, leaning back a bit.

“More than…go right ahead…” Geralt responded, struggling to contain the arousal in his tone.

Jaskier merely grinned and leaned back in to lick across the strip of skin once more. Twice more. Thrice, until he slid his tongue gingerly up Geralt’s shaft. The Witcher hissed above him, grabbing Jaskier’s hair almost by instinct. Jaskier groaned into the touch. The bard squeezed his legs together, attempting to rub himself off through his trousers.

“I didn’t say you could stop” Geralt spat.

“Yes, sir” Jaskier replied with a devilish grin.

Gods, this boy would be the death of him.

Jaskier quickly returned to his previous action of licking up and down the length of Geralt’s cock, pausing every so often to suck lightly on the head. He mouthed over the sides and flicked his tongue about. He teased the skin at the tip, pushing it back with his tongue and lapping the precum that slowly accumulated around it. Jaskier jerked his hips forward, trying to create friction between his own member and the fabric of his trousers.

“Pretty good at that, huh? Have you been practicing?” Geralt mocked Jaskier’s earlier remark, panting sweetly with each word.

“Let’s just say I had a knack for anatomy at Oxenfurt”

“Such a filthy brat”

“You love it”

Before Geralt could retort, Jaskier suddenly took his cock into his mouth and sucked, _hard._

Geralt let out a deep groan, knees bending slightly forward chasing the pressure. The bard’s tongue swirled around the width as he bobbed his head forward and back. Geralt grasped Jaskier’s hair with both hands, eliciting a whine each time he tugged on the strands. Jaskier flailed his hands behind him in spite of the restraint, wanting so badly to touch his Witcher.

_His_ Witcher. Yeah, he could work with that.

Jaskier hollowed out his cheeks and continued sucking like it was his profession. Some men he bedded before had assumed that _was_ his profession. Some women too, with the things he could do with his tongue. He never bothered to correct them.

The air around them filled with the scent of sex and sweat, earth and nearby flames, the natural sandalwood scent of the bard and the primal musk of the Witcher. The intermingling scents hitting Geralt especially strong, filling his senses to the point of delirium. Geralt forced Jaskier’s head down onto his cock without fully realizing it. Jaskier didn’t seem to mind. In fact, complaining was the farthest thing from his mind as he hungrily took everything the Witcher gave. Jaskier followed Geralt’s lead and took more and more of his length. He felt the tip of the Witcher’s cock hit the back of his throat, gagging for a second as his eyes rolled back in his head. Somewhere in the back of Jaskier’s mind, he knew he wouldn’t be able to take the Witcher’s entire length down his throat; but damn if he wasn’t going to try his fucking hardest.

“Jaskier, I… _fuck_! That mouth is _wasted_ on singing to tavern’s folk”

Jaskier would have argued that his singing talents were of the utmost excellence, and that he took pride and enjoyment in earning coin that way. However, with his mouth occupied by a quite sizeable Witcher dick, he’d have to voice his displeasure later. Though, displeasure was the exact opposite of what Jaskier was currently experiencing.

Geralt’s eyes shut tight as he loosened his grip on Jaskier’s head. He removed one hand and placed it at the base of his cock, quickly pumping the few inches Jaskier was unable to reach.

“You better quit sucking now unless you want me to cum down your throat” Geralt hurriedly advised.

Jaskier knew Geralt was giving him a choice, but all his mind could focus on were those last four words. He then let off Geralt for the briefest of moments.

“Gods, _please_ do”, that was all Jaskier said before swallowing his cock the furthest down his throat it could go.

Then, he felt it. Liquid heat flowed forth, filling the inside of his mouth. He could taste the warmth as it ran down his throat. The Witcher let out an animalistic grunt at every spasm. He just kept coming. And coming. And coming. Jaskier gladly swallowed around him. He wondered momentarily how long it had been since Geralt had gotten laid. Come to think of it, he really hadn’t left the bard for all that long these past weeks. He’d been saving up. A part of him hoped Geralt had been expecting something like this to happen. Soon, a warmth sprouted in his chest to match the warmth spilling from the man above him.

Geralt was spent. He gingerly removed himself from the bard’s mouth, inciting a small whine at the loss. Jaskier had tried to swallow it all, but inevitably some leaked at the corners of his mouth, dripping down onto the ground below. The bard coughed several times before catching his breath.

“Jaskier, are you alright? Did I hurt you?” Geralt asked, falling to his knees in concern.

“You haven’t broken me yet, you brute”

“You are insufferable” Geralt scolded with a wide grin. “You do; however, take direction exceedingly well”

The Witcher hastily retrieved a cloth from his back pocket and wiped the remaining spend from Jaskier’s face.

“Did you, uh…need me to..?” Geralt stammered, looking towards the bard’s crotch.

“No, I uh…I’m good this time” Jaskier replied sheepishly looking downward at the wet spot upon his trousers.

“This time?”

“Well…I had hoped you might wish to do this again…”

“Yes, I would” the Witcher replied almost too quickly, assuring the now uncharacteristically shy bard.

Geralt ran his fingers through Jaskier’s soft, brown locks. He followed the lines of his cheek down to his chin. Jaskier was blushing again, but it felt different this time. It felt more intimate, more special. This wasn’t a casual thing, it couldn’t be, not with the way their eyes met in mutual longing. Like another four-letter word beginning with “L” that neither of them dare say.

He reached behind Jaskier and undid his hands from the belt’s restraint. Jaskier’s hands immediately came up to meet Geralt’s face. Geralt rested his hands on Jaskier’s hips. They looked at each other in silence for a while before making the same decision.

Fuck it.

If this wasn’t love, it was damn close to it.

They both closed their eyes, leaned in, and pressed their lips together. The kiss was filled with passion and loyalty and courage and relief. In that single moment, everything seemed to make sense. If all tales of heartbreak and heroics were this good, Jaskier would memorize and recite them word for word at every opportunity. And Geralt would listen and marvel at just how lucky he was to find him.


End file.
